


The Black Dragon’s Daughter

by SeriTheButterfly



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29484525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeriTheButterfly/pseuds/SeriTheButterfly
Summary: The King Who Bore the Sword had seven sons. Only one remained now that House Blackfyre finally sat on the Iron Throne. But this was not his story. This is the story of those who would originally waste away in obscurity, that of the daughters of the Black Dragon.Second Blackfyre Rebellion victory AU.
Relationships: Calla Blackfyre/Aegor "Bittersteel" Rivers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Calla I: Throne of Ash

**Calla**

  
The throne room was almost empty when Calla Blackfyre walked into it.

The monstrous structure stretched before her, the throne that her father died fighting for. Calla did not recall seeing it with her own eyes before. Had her father brought her to the Falseborn, when they were still brothers and not enemies? Calla did not know.

Aenys also seemed to be struck by a state of reminiscence. He stood there in front of the throne without saying a word. But Aegor’s eyes were locked onto Shiera. He never wasted his time on reminiscence.

But perhaps there was more, Calla thought when she saw Shiera’s eyes. Those were blue and green, The blue was of the clear sky and the green only a shade deeper than the grass in the Dothraki Sea. Those were the same colour as Calla’s sword, her Crystal.

Shiera Seastar had noticed the gleam of Calla’s sword as well. “How curious,” She commented, “For it to be the same.”

Calla had not answered. Instead, her husband stepped forward. “Shiera,” He asked, from his harsh voice Calla did not hear the obsession he supposedly held for her, “Where is Aerys?”

The answer came in an eerily calm voice. “The King and his family left days ago. I wasn’t informed of their whereabouts.”

“But you knew. You always knew.”

She did not deny it.

“Take her away,” Aegor ordered, “I’ll question her later.”

Calla’s aunt had not resisted her arrest. Though, when she walked past Calla, she stopped and asked, “He told me that you killed him. Did you?”

Calla cast a glance on Aegor, who had the Valyrian sword that once belonged to Visenya Targaryen. Aenys had granted it to him after Calla killed Bloodraven. Shiera could have guessed it. Or she had indeed heard the dead talking to her.

“I did,” Calla admitted. “I avenged my father,” she added, perhaps unnecessarily.  
Shiera’s eyes gleamed. “That you did, Crystal Knight.”

They did not talk after that. But throughout the day, despite busily clearing the city, Calla kept thinking of Crystal.

Calla had gotten Crystal when she was a child. Not long after they arrived in Tyrosh, not long after her father died.

Even now she did not know why she was given it. But she guessed it all came from a desire. A desire to be useful. A desire to protect. A desire... for vengeance.

It was those desires that drove her to seek a sword. And what responded to her desperation gave her Crystal.

The sword which was sharper than Valyrian steel. The sword that only she could weld. The sword that could shine brighter than the sun, faster than her thoughts, stronger than any wind, and burn hotter than fire.

The sword that won Aenys the Iron Throne. The sword that slew Maekar and Bloodraven.

But despite all its power, she could not save her mother, her brothers. She started this war with three brothers. And now she only had one.

The war was not over yet. She had to keep Aenys alive. He was all her house had left.

“The coronation will be in the morning,” Aegor informed them. “Before we ride out to face what remaining support Aerys has.”

“Did she confess?” Calla asked, the innocent question hiding her emotions. Aegor had locked himself in the same chamber as Shiera for more than an hour. Calla did not want to imagine what happened behind closed doors.

“No. But it’s obvious where they’re hiding.” Aegor clenched his fists. “Baratheon had been one of their most staunch supporters, and Aerys’ wife was a Stormlander. Our forces will meet theirs within a week.”

“With Calla, we could win any battle,” Aenys declared, “but we should have proper funerals for Daemon and Haegon too… no, coronations. They’re both Kings.”

“It has been arranged,” Aegor promised him.

Calla was still too heartbroken to mutter their names. The brothers that she could not save, despite being so close. If only Crystal’s full power could have come to light earlier, then she could have killed Bloodraven before he killed them.

Instead she asked, “What of those we caught?”

Aegor did not answer. He stared at Aenys, and her younger brother shrugged. “I have a mind to have him take the black. He’s but a boy.”

“That would be after the north submits at the earliest. For now, I would have him be under arrest.” Aegor agreed to Aenys’ subtle bid for having mercy. This did not surprise Calla. People thought her uncle ruthless, but he was the one who taught her when to lay down her sword. He had a softer side few knew.

That was why she was curious.

“What of our aunt?” She persisted. “What did you plan to do with her, Aegor?”

His sharp glance pierced her, but Calla met him unyieldingly. She had to know, not the details, but his plans. Did he plan to have her locked there under his mercy forever? Calla would not stand for that. The thought made her skin crawl.

Aegor’s lips pursed slightly. “She refused to cooperate, so I... disposed of her.”

Disposed? Calla wanted to ask further, but she managed to stop herself. It was meaningless. Whether he killed Shiera or banished her, it made no difference. What was important was that he would not see her again.

That did not mean that he would have her out of his mind. But Calla never dared hope for that. She only hoped that he held a tinge of affection for her. For he was more than a husband for her.

He was her father figure, her mentor, who had recognised her power before anyone did. He had given her training and command on the field despite her gender. Her father gave her hand to him to bind him close to her house, and he treated her with all the respect, even when he learned of her defects, the price she had surely paid to obtain Crystal.

Still, she longed for more. For he was the only one she could rely on.

If only she could trust him, then she could tell him the glimpse of the horror that had been troubling her since she got Crystal.

—

It was not entirely dissimilar to those Daemon had told them. Dragon dreams.

But the nature of it was different. Dragon dreams were vague things, unreliable though real. What Calla could recall seeing, she could nail it down to the exact year it would happen.

The last of her house, a monstrous kinslayer, taken down by a white cloak. The end of the line of Daeron Falseborn, it was not her house that cast them down, but the Stags. Their rule was short-lived, however, as war emerged, and Winter engulfed the realm.

The nightmare had haunted her constantly throughout the years. But it was thanks to them that she had foreseen Daemon’s plan, that she could convince Aegor to return to Westeros in time, that Aenys sat on the Iron Throne.

Had she changed the future that the Winter would not reign?

Yet Calla could still feel the cold wind blowing.

“...Calla,” Aenys called, “Are you listening to me?”

“Sorry, brother.” She blinked. The chill of Winter had not yet gone, no, but it was pushed back to the depths of her mind. “I was distracted. What are you saying?”

“I might give you an official position in my small council after this war. Lest those lords challenge your command again.”

“They don’t know me. It’s expected.” Calla sighed. They had enough to worry about without all this political nonsense. “I may have proven my worth at Whitewalls, but that was just the first step. It’s only natural that those who haven’t seen me in action will still doubt my story. Give them time, brother.”

Aenys frowned. “A challenge to you is a challenge to my authority. And unlike Haegon, I have never shown my merits on a battlefield more than any common foot soldier. They have to respect you just as they respect Uncle Aegor, you two being the pillars of my reign.”

“It’s heartwarming to hear such a high opinion from you, Aenys.” It was true, but Daemon had never expressed such gratitude when he was alive. Aenys always had the sweetest tongue out of them all.

No, this would not do, Calla reminded herself. Do not think ill of the dead. Daemon was her brother. And she failed to save him.

She had failed to save her king. What kind of pillar was she?

Aenys smiled briefly. He didn’t seem to notice her discomfort. “This is simply the truth. Uncle Aegor is my hand, but you… what do you think about being the Lady Commander of my kingsguard?”

Calla’s eyes widened. “You must be joking! Should I remind you that I’m a married woman, not a knight?”

“You’re a knight in Whitewalls. The Crystal Knight, you named yourself. As for your marriage… you and I both know the truth with that.”

That was Aenys being considerate with her, Calla knew that. He did not call it a farce, though he could have, as her other siblings had said a number of times. Because they were right. It was.

But she still could not accept that.

“No! It’ll cause an uproar if you named a woman to the Kingsguard. And you plan to name me Lady Commander!”

“Fine,” Aenys sighed. “I’m getting less and less enthusiastic about the prospect of my crown.”

“We still have a bit to go before your crown is secure. Aegor should take care of the Baratheons and Aerys, but we cannot be sure that we have captured all the false dragons.”

“We have taken Dragonstone.” Aenys started counting. “That gave us the mad Rhaegel and his children. Summerhall is under our control, giving us Maekar’s eldest Daeron and his sisters. Our allies in the Reach have captured Aemon. Aegon had been in our grasp since Whitewalls. This leaves…”

“Aerion Brightflame.” Calla frowned as she recalled the deeds she knew that man had done. “He had been exiled to Lys.”

“That’s indeed a problem.” Aenys crossed his arms, one hand stroking his chin in thought. “To have no knowledge of his whereabouts—”

“Aenys! Calla!” Aegor strode in, holding a piece of parchment in his hands, his eyes sharp as he looked into their faces. “Have you two heard from Daena?”

Calla shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re on about. What’s in that letter?”

Aenys was similarly confused, though he did force out a tired chuckle. “Did she cause trouble again?”

Aegor sneered. “See for yourself.” He threw the letter on the table with evident anger.

Aenys spread out the crumpled letter and they read it together.

“Oh, Daena, why?” Calla could not help but ask. This was no mere trouble. No childish prank she used to pull.

This was a disaster.


	2. Aerion I: Use or Undo

**Aerion**

  
Aerion had put time and effort into this. He had swallowed the shame from Ashford, waiting for the time to strike. And today, his hard work would finally bear fruit.

It was back when he had arrived in Lys that he heard of the Blackfyres’ whereabouts. He was full of fury towards his father, towards Aegon, and towards that hedge knight. It was a desire for vengeance that motivated him to seek out the Blackfyres, and this Golden Company.

Hide amidst them, gain their trust, provoke them to attack his enemies, betray them and gain the crown for himself. That was his original plan. However, by the time he installed himself into their ranks, it was the eve before they invaded Westeros.

Had it been just that it would only lessen Aerion’s work. He could have earned the trust he needed by advancing in battle. Yet, Aerion was ordered to stay with the small group of guards for the younger Blackfyre sister, the one who did not pretend to be a man with a freakish sword.

And so while the Blackfyres crossed the narrow sea, Aerion was forced to remain in Tyrosh.

He had thought of running away, but once the anger passed, he thought of a better plan. One that would bring him much more than running back to Westeros with his tail between his legs.

Daena Blackfyre was pretty, with her eyes and hair the exact same shade of Aerion’s own, and during the short period they had met, she had shown obvious interest in Aerion. A favourable combination.

If he could abduct her and take her back to Westeros, he could spin the situation to his advantage no matter how the war goes. Aegon would be outshone by Aerion’s bravery and cunning, that is, if he was still alive by then.

Aerion took his time to talk with Daena. A few sentences every day, at first. Then days turned into weeks, and a month later they were spending time alone for hours.

It was all too easy. She was as desperate for his attention as much as he desired hers. “I don’t have anyone else to talk to now that Calla and Haegon are both gone,” she told him herself. “There are no other ladies I could be friends with ever since my mother died… you’re the first person outside of my family to approach me.”

Aerion said a few sweet words to comfort her, and she melted in his arms completely. So simple-minded. So foolish.

He would wed her, Aerion had promised the first time they laid together, they could run away and find a Septon. Nobody would find them, he had whispered in her ears in a honey-coated voice.

But she had firmly refused. “No, I can’t do this. Calla and Haegon are fighting a war across the narrow sea. Not just them, but Daemon and Aenys too, and they’re never as gifted as Calla or Haegon are... I’m not like Calla, who could kill everyone in her path, but I have a responsibility to my family too.”

She would not sway no matter what Aerion told her. He had hoped she would leave by her own will, so it would be less troublesome to spirit her away. But now he had to use other methods.

Today, he brought a bottle of wine when he went to meet her.

“I brought you something, Daena. The merchant said it’s from Westeros.”

Daena accepted his gift with a sweet smile on her face. “Arbor Gold, it’d seem. This must have cost you a fortune, knowing that it’s imported from so far away. Thank you.”

“All for you, my love.” It was actually from Aerion’s own stash. He had some wine stored away before joining the Company, along with some other… useful liquid.

She had the bottle uncorked and poured the wine out neatly in two small goblets. Aerion watched her movement with fascination. She moved swiftly, her every move quick and defined… she would serve better as a maid than a princess in a gilded cage. Maybe she can be my personal maid when I bring her back, Aerion thought. That would be sufficiently humiliating for a Blackfyre.

“What’s the occasion, though? This is the first time you have brought me gifts— actually, wait for a second. I forget something I’ve planned to give you.” She apologetically smiled. “Would you mind giving me some time to take it?”

“Of course not.” He smirked. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. “You have something prepared for me too? We’re destined for each other, then.”

“So we are.” she beamed. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as she was out of his sight, Aerion took out the small bottle he had hidden in his clothes and empty the contents into her cup.

She returned quickly, with a box in hand. “Oh, my love, I hope you didn’t get too bored.” Quickly she put down the box to give him a kiss.

Aerion gladly accepted her advance, pulling her close. They kissed for half a minute before releasing each other, Daena’s face flushing deep red.

He wanted her, but he needed her to drink. He could enjoy her more… thoroughly when she was in his own chamber in Westeros. “Sit down and take a drink. We have plenty of time, you can relax… I’m not going anywhere.”

Daena nodded. She smiled shyly and raised her goblet, “To good wine and love.”

“To good wine and love,” He echoed and watched her gobbled up the whole goblet of wine with satisfaction. It should only take a few minutes for it to take effect, Aerion thought as he also took a victory slip. It was sweet.

“It’s good,” She declared after putting down the goblet. “Westeros produces quality beverages. I wasn’t too keen on returning before, but now I have a change of mind.”

“Oh, but the daughters of Westeros are sweeter even. Rare, I’m sure, but the highest quality of women is sweeter than any wine.” He continued to flatter her.

Surprisingly she didn’t blush as Aerion expected her to. Instead, she had a wicked smile on her face. “Sweeter than those you have tasted in Volantis or those in Lys? I’m sure they’re of Valyrian descent too.”

Ah, yes, that was the story he gave her. A lowly Volantene, trying to seek his fortune with the Blackfyres, descendants of the old Valyrian dragonlords. “How could those of lesser blood be compared to you, descended from Aegon the Conqueror himself?”

“But they say the blood for greatness is also the blood for madness.” Daena moved on to the box, warped in thick ropes. She started to tie it. Aerion paid her action no attention; he just had to wait for her to fall asleep.

“They are one and the same, dear Daena. The only difference is whether one succeeds - or not.” He smirked.

“That’s pretty insightful,” Daena admired, fingers swiftly working on the ropes. “But does that make my father mad? He failed after all.”

“He’s mad.” Daena frowned and stared at him when she heard those words, but he did not care. She was going to faint any second now. “But if he wasn’t, we’d never meet.”

“Oh, I won’t be so sure about that.” Daena threw away the ropes, her hands on the box’s cover. “I’m sure we’d have met somewhere in Westeros. It might be a kinder fate for both of us. But now.. aren’t you curious what I have prepared for you?”

Aerion blinked. Suddenly he felt giddy. Must be the excitement of victory coming to him. “Whatever it is, it must be marvellous, my love.”

“It sure is.” She reached into the box and pulled out a shiny dagger. “It’s no Valyrian steel, but it was forged by the most skillful smith here in Tyrosh. It’s my mother’s.”

“That’s—“ Aerion’s lips and tongue were strangely stiff.

“Do you know how she died?” She asked. “An assassin from Westeros killed her. My two youngest brothers too. I was the only survivor of that attack. I have wished to put this dagger through those who were responsible since then.”

“You… did you…” He could not move, could not control his limbs. His legs failed him and he fell out of his seat, haplessly laying on the floor.

Daena kneeled beside him, pulled him up by his hair with one hand, and pointed her dagger at him with the other. “Now, my dear Aerion, how does your own poison taste?” There was no trace of the shy, sweet woman in her eyes. “I wish it’s not something deadly. I still have great use of you.”

—

Aerion saw a woman in his dreams. Her hair was not silver-and-gold, but coal black. Her skin was not pale, but bronzed. She wore a purple dress, and when she turned her head to look at him, her eyes were as violet as his.

“Mother,” he called.

But Dyanna Dayne did not heed him. She was busily fussing after a newborn babe. Aegon. Or was that Aemon? Aerion could not tell. Or maybe it was one of the girls.

Either way, she had no time for a second son who could care for himself. Too many children, one after another. Eventually Rhae came along, and she lived not long after that.

Aerion hated her. She was just a Dornish woman who had no place marrying a Targaryen. Had Maekar had a sister, no, even a cousin to wed, Aerion was sure he would have the attention he craved for.

If Aerion himself was to wed, he would never choose a Dornish woman. He would choose…

The woman’s face shifted. A woman with curly silver hair and rose-red cheeks now stared back at him with a shy smile. Daena.

It was true that he would prefer to marry Daena over his sisters, Daella and Rhae who were little more than witless bitches. He had enjoyed the past months with Daena more than the time he had spent in Westeros.

But she was an illusion. The shy, sweet, lonely Daena never existed. Only a Blackfyre bent on revenge.

Daena— the Daena in his dreams— walked towards him, still holding the baby Dyanna was fussing over before in her arms.

Why did it not disappear with his mother? “Don’t come near me!” He shouted, “And put that thing away.”

Daena blinked. “But this is our child, my love. Don’t you want to hold him?”

Our child? In confusion, he looked at the baby to search for any features that could confirm his identity—

—And found his own face staring back at him.

“No!” Aerion screamed.

The baby with his head did not scream. It smiled instead. “I’m a true dragon, Father,” That... thing said in a childish voice. “One day I’ll prove it to you. I’ll become a dragon worthy of our house.”

In horror, Aerion recognised his own words, words he had once said to Maekar Targaryen.

“Stop! Stop! This is just a dream! I don’t need you to remind me. I know I’m a true dragon!”

But the thing with his head only crawled closer and closer. “Father, do you see? I’m a dragon now. I can fly…” Suddenly the creature flew. Flew into the air, and floated next to Aerion’s head.

“...And I can breathe flames.” A fire erupted from the lookalike’s mouth and burned Aerion into ashes.


	3. Aegor I: I Buried You There

**Aegor**

  
Aegor could never forget that day.

It all began at his father’s funeral. The newly legitimised Aegor rode for King’s Landing so he could watch the body of his father, who had only visited him once in the older man’s whole life, be put to the pyre.

There he met Daemon. Brynden, Mya and Gwenys. Even Daeron and Daenerys. And he met... Shiera.

He was too young to have any feelings for Shiera back then, but he thought her eyes were pretty, and he told her so.

It was only a small, innocent praise. But she smiled and thanked him, in a voice so enchanting that it echoed in his head.

Whenever Aegor thought of her, it was those two things which came to his mind. Odd colored eyes that glimmered like crystals, and a low, quiet, steady voice that captured all his attention.

He was stunned by her. That itself would not be a problem. She was only one of their father’s many bastard daughters. Irrelevant to Aegor’s goal.

Yet she was the one who would spell their doom. Because Aegor was not the only man she had charmed.

From what Aegor later remembered, he was surprised to find that he did not loathe Brynden immediately. At first, the only thing Aegor felt about him was envy. Envy, that Brynden and his mother could stay at court while Aegor grew up in Stone Hedge. If Barba Bracken could stay in court, Aegor’s aunt Bethany might still be alive… and Barba would have stayed sane.

Aegor did not forget the last time he saw his mother. She languished and withered on a bed, screaming curses at King Aegon, at Daeron, at Melissa Blackwood. Even at Aegor himself.

Barba hated his eyes, those eyes that were so similar to the man who promised so much before abandoning her for a Blackwood. The man that had her father and sister killed.

But she hated Aegor’s Bracken traits too. For it was Lord Bracken who pushed her to seduce Aegon, a move that would ruin her own life and sent Bethany to her death, all for the fortune Aegon would give him— and then foolishly lost his own life in his schemes.

Aegor could not have his mother’s love, except for those rare occasions where she was sane again and recognised him as her own, instead of the two men she loathed.

In those moments, she would tell him the same thing again and again.

“Take your throne, my son, for it’s rightfully yours. Take it, and cast everyone who has wronged us into the Seven Hells.”

Aegor wished no harm to his Bracken kin, who had treated him better than any bastards could hope for— because they, too, knew that there was still a distant possibility of him taking the throne. They were his only base of support.

But the other half of his blood, the Targaryens, and the other thousands of bastards Aegon had sired? They could die if only to satisfy his mother’s bloodlust.

There was nothing personal about this. He was simply fulfilling his mother’s wish.

This was what Aegor had thought, though, before he met Daemon and Shiera. But then on that day, when Daemon welcomed him with the warmth of a brother, and he saw Shiera’s smile…

The conviction he once held began to shatter.

Daemon had no reason to befriend him, yet he still did, with genuine interest and passion. He truly thought of Aegor as his brother even if they had just met.

As Aegor stayed at court and he got to know Daemon better, he found out why— Daemon treated him as a brother because he truly believed Aegor was one of them. As simple as that.

Not Daemon’s friends surrounding him thought the same, but for most of them, Aegor’s martial ability was enough to convince them to accept him.

And it was not just them. Through Daemon, Aegor had multiple chances to interact with Shiera, with Daenerys, with Mya, Gwenys, and Brynden. And they all accepted him… back then.

Even now, after everything that happened, Aegor could not bring himself to wish ill of Mya and Gwenys, if only for the kindness they had shown him. He was secretly glad that they were married away to obscurity and safety early on. If they were still around, Aegor would have to send them to the Faith, or kill them too.

Yet the more he interacted with them, the more it hurt. It was clear that he could never truly become one of them, despite Daemon’s wish, because Aegor swore a vow. A vow of vengeance for his mother.

Aegor wanted to be closer to them, but he could not afford to. And during his time in court, he quickly learned that his mother’s plan was hopeless from the start: Daeron might not be the most popular king, but anyone who looked for an alternative would set their eyes on Daemon. For he was all a king should be, and more.

Aegor tried his best to bury those memories, but he could never forget his own sins, in those dark years when he thought of plotting Daemon’s death.

He never told anyone, but Brynden still found out. It was the first time Aegor understood the extent of Brynden’s sorcery. Even so, they were not enemies— if anything, Aegor felt that he could trust Brynden, for merely stopping him and doing nothing else.

How wrong he was.

It was not until later when Aegor went home and visited his mother’s grave that he decided to help Daemon take his crown. Aegor had witnessed how Daeron forced Daemon and Daenerys apart. Daemon was not their enemy, he whispered at his mother’s gravestone. Daemon was an ally, one who would achieve what Aegor himself could not.

He naively thought they — those whom Daemon thought to be family— would all be on his side, for Daeron never showed much interest in his siblings, if any at all. Daeron was not a cruel man, no, he merely failed to imagine how those bastards’ feelings would have any importance.

For years, Aegor could not find where it went wrong, as he searched and searched for an answer. The moment he watched Brynden and Shiera with blazing jealousy, and noticed his feelings for her? The moment when Shiera rejected him? The moment when he attacked Brynden in anger when the sorcerer refused to join them?

Or it was before all these?

No matter what, the past could not be changed. Brynden betrayed Daemon and killed him and his two sons. It was too late to think of his mistakes. All that could be done was to avenge Daemon — and now, they finally did it. Calla slew Brynden herself, and Aenys now sits on the Iron Throne.

So why was it that he still felt so empty?

“Aegor.” Shiera’s voice was as captivating as before, but her smile was no longer genuine. Only a fake mask of politeness remained. “You came. I was expecting you.”

“...Let’s not waste any more time on this. Tell me what I want to know.” Aegor frowned. He could not go soft on her, not now. “You know what Brynden was planning before facing my force on the field.”

“Oh, brother,” she forced out a pained laugh. “why bother? You already have the answer you seek. Brynden’s plan was shattered the moment your little wife landed in Westeros. He tried picking up the pieces, but his efforts were all for naught. Aerys ran away at the Queen’s urging, and we both know very well where they went. You didn’t come here to ask me this.”

“What if I am? What if I tell you failing to provide more information will result in your death?” He threatened her, forcing himself to speak in a monotone. He did not want this, did not want her to despise him more than she already did. And yet...

Shiera looked at him with a bitter smile on her lips. Her eyes closed ever so briefly, before she let out a small sigh. “Then I’d accept your final gift with gratitude.”

Aegor shook in blind jealousy and rage. He shouted towards those mocking eyes, filled with fierce determination. “You would rather die with Brynden than take the escape I could offer you? I can keep you alive. You don’t have to follow his footsteps.

“You are wrong, Aegor.” She appeared completely unfazed. “It’s not because of Brynden. I knew of his death before anyone else… I saw him in my dreams, and he told me what happened. In life or in death, it makes no difference to us.”

“Then why?” It did not surprise Aegor that Brynden still existed in some form. He was a sorcerer, he had multiple tails even if they cut one off. But he was more interested in Shiera’s reasoning. “Do you really hate me that much?”

“You asked me the same thing back then,” Shiera murmured, “I didn’t answer. I had thought it over and over since then, and I…” She had an expression he had never seen on her face before: regret. “I think I owe you an explanation and an apology.”

“What’s the point of that? You made your choice.” He could not hide the resentment in his voice, his desire for an apology. An apology for pushing him away without saying why. An apology for everything that happened after… but it was not fair to Shiera, was it? It was his own decision that led to Daemon’s death.

And he would spend the rest of his life repenting for it.

“Yes, but the truth isn’t what you believe it to be. I… I don’t hate you. I never did. It’s just that I couldn’t give you what you desired.” She smiled thinly. “I couldn’t return your love any more than I could return Brynden’s. The only difference between you and him was that he’s willing to settle for less. I knew you, Aegor. I knew this wasn’t what you could accept.”

“That’s it? You can’t return my love?” Aegor cracked up, a burst of dry laughter. “What kind of explanation is that? You’re right. I wouldn’t accept that. But I have long since accepted that I cannot have you. So there is no need to say more.”

“I don’t feel the same way you do… I can’t love. Even now, I know not the feelings you held… I never felt that for anyone,” Shiera calmly replied. Aegor heard not one hint of deception in her voice. “I don’t love you. And I didn’t love Brynden, either. It’s not something I possess.”

Aegor pondered her words, and the past they shared. They had such an innocent time before. A time when whatever feelings they held for each other was pure. Since when it was tainted?

Was it when he started to envy Daemon, with his many children and a happy wife and thought to find himself a bride?

Was it when Shiera started to study what her mother had left her... with Brynden’s help?

Was it when he swore to his mother’s grave that he would take his revenge, no matter what the price may be?

No… perhaps she was right. For everything he should come to regret, their shared past was not one of them.

He had been desperate for love, for someone that could fill the hole in his heart that his mother left. But she could never provide that for him. Nor anyone else.

“Did Brynden know that all along?” He felt so tired. In the end they were both chasing after something they could not get.

“More or less. He knew that I cannot love him, yet he still stayed by my side. They said that love makes even the wisest a fool. I’m inclined to agree.” She stared into his eyes. “I don’t know how much of this… Brynden, you, and me… led to the current situation. But I still imagine it would be different if I hadn’t avoided you. So kill me, if you must. I see no life in my future even if you allow me to live.”

His hands shook. How funny, he thought, for those hands that had spilled so much blood to cower now. “I don’t want to kill you, Shiera. I…” How many years, he wondered, had he buried this feeling in his heart? It was shameful to think about a woman that had already so clearly rejected him. Being unable to commit himself fully to his marriage, to Calla… “I still love you.”

“No. You don’t.” Shiera rejected him all the same. “Not anymore. You’re only reminiscing about an illusion of what you could never have. Let it go, Aegor, and let me die. If you would not kill me with your sword, find me my poison and grant me the sweet, painless plunge into oblivion.”

“So be it.” He sighed heavily. It was the coward’s way out, but despite all appearances, on matters regarding Shiera, he was always a coward.

Shiera drank. Without even saying a word.

Without even saying goodbye.

Was this wise? He asked himself repeatedly. To let her die, to let her choose her own death. To not send her away to live in obscurity as he originally planned to.

But she was right. He had to let her go, no matter what. Because she had never been his. And he had found something better.

He could never correct his mistakes, but he could do so much more. For Daemon’s children…

...And especially for Calla.

The content of Daena’s accursed letter came back to him for a moment, but then he pushed it back in his mind as far as he could. There was something more important now.

To accept Baratheon and Aerys’ surrender.


	4. Aerion II: Hell or Heaven

**Aerion**

  
Aerion awakened not to fire, but to a bucket of ice-cold water.

“You’re screaming,” Daena chuckled. “Nightmares? I supposed I can’t blame you. I’d be afraid too, if I were in your shoes.”

He was in a room of the Blackfyre manse. The room had been stripped of any decorations or windows. Only the basic furniture remained, including the chair he was sitting on.

“Daena!” He shouted and lunged forward, only to be forced back by the chains tightly binding his arms and upper body. Water dripped down his forehead, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut.

“Hey, look at me. I want to talk, and it won’t do if you don’t collaborate. It’ll be a waste to kill you now, after I went through so much effort to trick you.”

“I don’t take orders from a bitch.” Aerion shivered, his damp clothes failing to protect him from the cool morning air.

“Oh?” Daena’s playful voice cooled down to a chilling tone. “Aerion, dear, you think you’re the one giving orders around here? You did better before when you’re pretending to be a sweetheart. Now, look at me.” She took his chin and forced his head up.

Aerion spitted on her. She laughed. “That’s pathetic, love. You have licked me plenty before, and I never minded that.” She raised her hand, and warm, delicate fingers wiped the droplets out of his eyes.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Daena beaming at him, her eyes round with excitement. The corners of her mouth curved up to an uncanny angle.

“Does it feel better now?” Her voice was softer. “You could have told me that the water was bothering you. I have a towel here, and I don’t mind drying you up for a bit before talking.”

Aerion could only glare at her. Nothing he did seemed to scare her. Not that he was in a position to bargain anyway… or was he? “Untie me and I’ll do it myself,” he snarled.

“But you’re such a scary, big, no good man.” She mockingly looked around the room with a frown on her face. “See? There’s no one else but us around here! Poor useless Daena is afraid of what the infamous Prince Brightflame will do to her if she unties him.” She turned back to him with a full smile. “Aerion. I’m not that stupid.”

He clenched his teeth. “You’ll pay for this, Blackfyre.”

“Pay for what? For being your obedient little girlfriend for the last few months? If anything, you should be thanking me.” Daena smirked. “Because you’re getting a chance no one else in your family could.”

“What do you mean?” Aerion asked.

“I’ll tell you soon,” Daena giggled. Quickly and gently, she wiped his face and hair dry, then covered him up with the towel.

“This will do for now.” She nodded, satisfied. “It won’t take too long for us to talk anyway. I’ll get someone to change your clothes after that. And now...”

She placed a hand on her belly. “Congratulations! You’re going to be a father.”

Aerion was stunned. The scene from his dream flashed in his mind. The babe that had his own face and voice.

No. NO. It was just a dream. Because…

“It… it isn’t mine! There’s no way you’ll keep a child of your enemy!”

“Oh, but it’s yours. Had I not come to your bed as a maiden? It was only a short while ago, and I haven’t lain with any other man since.” Though nothing could prove her words, the conviction in her voice made Aerion pause. Daena smiled. “Besides, I have no reason to trick you now that you’re firmly in my grasp. The truth is, I have allowed you to bed me in the hope that you’d get a child on me.”

“Liar!” Aerion shouted. “This would mean you knew who I am for months! That would be—”

“—I’d be incredibly foolish if I didn’t know who you were. You said you came from Volantis, yet you obviously knew nothing about it. A true noble of Volantis would never lower themselves to a mere sellsword for the tainted line of Aegon. And we knew of your arrival in Lys ages ago. Surely you have been around us long enough to remember that we have a spymaster— who reports directly to me now that I’m the highest command left?”

Aerion felt his face redden with rage. She had toyed with him, and the whole Golden Company too, even as he believed his plan was inching ever closer to success. Daena had completely outplayed him… for what?

“Don’t believe I’ll be merciful just because you have my child! Once you have given birth, I’ll tear you apart limbs by limbs then set you to fire!” Aerion howled.

Daena watched him with cold amusement. “A kinslayer is cursed by the Gods… but I suppose you and your line had more than enough experience in kinslaying ever since my father’s war. I’ll remember to keep you in chains. I confess, though, I had hoped that the time we spent together would lessen your murderous rage. After all, I would have no choice but to dispose of you if you do not cooperate.”

Aerion stiffened. This was the second time she threatened him with death since he woke up. His fury towards Daena had chilled, replaced by heart-gripping fear. And now that he had a glimpse into Daena’s true self, he knew that she was far from the sweet woman he had known before…

“I’ll hear what you have to say,” he hissed.

“I know you love me,” Daena smirked. “When I found out who you truly were, I had thought of killing you. But with all of my family fighting a war they might once again lose, I decided to take some… precautions.”

Precautions? Now it was Aerion’s turn to laugh. “You thought they cared about me? My own father exiled me for the sake of a hedge knight!”

“He exiled you for causing Baelor Breakspear’s death. And as a matter of fact… yes, I think they do care about you. Not as a hostage, mind you, but they’ll hesitate to kill one of their blood. And by our union…” Her gaze lowered to where one hand still proudly rested above her womb. “My child will be a dragon of Black and Red, the blood of two feuding lines residing in their veins.”

Aerion’s eyes widened. “You intend for the Blackfyre line to survive through our child.”

“Yes. If Daemon wins the war, then no harm is done; you will return to Westeros, and you shall be my loyal, obedient husband. Or the block, if you refuse. But if he loses… we’ll build a new generation of Blackfyres, whom you and your kin will have to leave alive.” Daena pointed a finger at his nose. “Do you understand? I did you a favour. You’ll either be kept alive if we win, or be the father of the new Blackfyres if we lose.”

He wanted to bite that finger off oh so badly. “My child will be a Targaryen.”

“Targaryen, Blackfyre, does the name really matter? Blood survives. If we lose the war, of course our child will be known as a Targaryen. You’ll tell your family of our marriage, and I’ll go back to being the shy, sweet Daena you’re so fond of.” She chuckled, “Isn’t that what you were trying to do, by wooing me and gifting me that wine? To bring me back home?”

“Don’t presume that you know anything about me and my plan.” Out of spite, Aerion snarled. “I was only planning to play with you some more before killing you.”

“Oh, is that it?” Daena raised an eyebrow. “How sad. I’m actually quite fond of you myself. You’re amusing to watch. I’ve even told my family about our never-ending love!”

“You… you what?”

“Earlier this day, I wrote a letter informing my family about how we met and fell in love, and how you felt compelled to reveal your identity and marry me after you knew that I was with child. I’ve sent someone able and loyal across the narrow sea with the letter. If my family wins, they’ll be well prepared to receive us. If they lose, my man will let himself be captured, and your family will read this letter thinking this is real information. Either way…”

She grinned. “The message has been sent. There is nothing you can do now. Accept reality, my dear new husband.”

Aerion’s face turned green. “If you Blackfyres win against all odds, what will stop your brothers or Bittersteel from executing me?”

“Unlike you, we are no kinslayers, and you will be the father of my child. And if you play the part of a loyal, lovesick husband well enough, I shall protect you from harm. Do we have a deal?”

Aerion hesitated. He was reluctant to give Daena the satisfaction of agreeing with her, but he did not have much choice. She had set things up that he would have to play the role she assigned in order to survive.

But… no, he could do nothing when tied to a chair. He would need to earn his freedom first. Daena could hardly have him act as her husband while he was chained up.

“I’ll be the husband you want. But you’ll have to set me free.” He tried his best to keep himself calm as he bargained.

“In my letter, I’ve mentioned that you agreed to surrender yourself to our captivity to prove your loyalty to me. But sure, I’ll release you once we arrive in Westeros. I don’t want my child asking why I am keeping their father in chains.”

“That’s not what I—” He stopped himself before he could finish his sentence. It did no good to anger her, not now, he reminded himself. Ten months. Daena would have to stay alive until given birth anyway. 

Then, he could…

“Looks like you’ve learned,” Daena said, breaking his trail of thoughts. “I’m glad you’re not a complete idiot. Don’t worry, I won’t put you down in the cells; you’ll stay in this room until we can set sail for Westeros. My men will unchain you later when we’re done talking.”

“Fine.” Aerion sighed. “Don’t leave me alone here for long. I want to see my child growing in your womb… and you,” He quickly added. He would need to keep talking to Daena. If he could convince her he really did love her, she would definitely free him.

“Aww, I see that you’ve fallen for me all over again!” Daena beamed. “Deal. You can spend your time thinking of names for our child, and I’ll let you know what’s going on outside the next time I swing by.”

Daena walked towards the door. She suddenly stopped and turned around to face him when her hand was on the handle.

“One last thing.” The smile she once wore was no longer on her face. “Don’t even think of escaping. My men are guarding this room at all times, and they are outside the windows too. If they find out you have any other plans, I’ll have no choice but to get rid of you. I’m sure you’re smart enough to value your life.”

“...Noted.” Aerion was forced to nod. It would take time to gain her trust… far longer than he had originally thought.

But it was his only way to survive... and, perhaps one day, seek his revenge on her.

“Good! I’ll see you later, my love.” A mocking grin appeared on her face. Then she was gone.

Aerion gritted his teeth. He caught a glimpse of the hallway outside when Daena opened the door, and it was full of armed knights. She was not bluffing. She had him trapped. 

But he would not give up.

Because he was Aerion Targaryen, a true dragon, and a dragon would not lose to a false one.


End file.
